


Safe Not Sound

by MissDavis



Series: Consolation Prizes [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Canon compliant through S3, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Guns, Semi-Public Sex, background johnlockary, but not s4 obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis/pseuds/MissDavis
Summary: "Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."





	Safe Not Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthe/gifts).



> Written for the [221B-Consolation Fest](https://221b-consolation.tumblr.com/), based on this prompt by [ Luthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthe) (Persian Slipper on Tumblr): _Marylock: Mary finds out how dreadful Sherlock is with gun safety and guns in general, so she drags him off to the shooting range. Sherlock decides Mary competently handling firearms is the hottest thing ever. Smut ensues. (I would prefer if this were in the context of established Johnlockary, because adultery is a squick for me)_
> 
> I wasn't planning to write ficlets at all this year, then I saw this prompt and knew it was meant to be, so thank you! I think this is the first time I ever wrote a ficlet with an explicit smut scene in it, which explains why it is over 2000 words and took me most of a week to write.

Mary drew the gun from its holster beneath her right arm. Not the same gun she'd shot Sherlock with, but she glanced up to see a spark of—was that fear or interest?—cross his face. She kept the barrel pointed down; the floor of Mycroft's secret firing range was presumably designed to minimize ricochet, but she had no intention of shooting at anything other than the target today. And if she was meant to teach Sherlock about gun safety, she needed to follow the rules herself. She checked the safety was on and cleared her throat. "So, apparently we need to start with the first and most basic rule, because I know you don't follow it: Never point a gun at something unless you intend to shoot it. This means you don't wave it in the air or scratch your head with it—Sherlock, have you stopped listening to me already?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing above the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. "Sorry. Yes. No, hang on. I need to send a text." He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped at the screen.

"Now? I'm trying to show you something here. Who are you texting?"

"John. To ask if he minds if you fuck me with your gun."

"What?!" She glanced around the room, though of course they were the only people here.

"You heard me." He tapped forcefully at the screen of his phone and then lowered it, grinning at her with a desire she recognized very well.

"No! No way in hell, Sherlock." It wasn't the fucking she objected to. She and John and Sherlock had been fucking each other just about every way imaginable since a few months after Rosie was born. But— "No gun."

His phone dinged and he smiled down at it. "John just says no bullets."

"No gun," she repeated.

"Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."

"You can wait until tonight, and John and I will do whatever you want that doesn't involve any deadly weaponry." She holstered the gun so she wouldn't be tempted to gesture at him with it as they argued. 

He nodded rapidly. "Oh, I'll be ready to go again tonight. But right now, there is absolutely no way I am going to be able to concentrate on your safety lesson unless you fuck me with that gun first."

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock. No." She turned away from him for a moment, looking out at the paper silhouette of a person that served as a target. The head was marked with a thick red T-shape extending from slightly above the eyebrows to just over the upper lip. Her favorite way to kill someone. She blinked her eyes shut briefly and turned back to Sherlock. "So what is it? Is it the gun itself? Because I know you have all those gun magazines you like to read in your flat, but honestly I don't understand why you would think me holding a gun would be sexy." He should have been terrified of her—he should be having flashbacks right now—but no, he not only trusted her not to shoot him again but was aroused by the sight of her with the weapon.

"Part of it is the holster." He stepped closer to her, and lowered his voice as he spoke, which was very annoying because he knew exactly what he sounded like and what that did to her and there was no way she was going to do what he asked but, God, she was starting to want to peel his clothes off him right here in the middle of the gun range. "I like the leather," he continued, "and the way it's so fitted and how the gun slides in snugly and then you take it out and have that cold metal in your hands and the power...." He took a step back again and spoke in his normal tone. "I have the same problem when John is carrying or holding a weapon. Very distracting."

Mary exhaled and checked to make sure the holster's buckle over the gun was securely clasped. "Look, I'm supposed to be teaching you how to be safe around guns, all right? Now, it's fine if you have a fantasy that you have fun pretending with, but it's not something you should do for real." She thought about it for a second. "How about I suck you off instead?"

"Mm, really not the same thing at all."

She could see the bulge in his trousers already. She dropped down to her knees—that concrete was hard—then reached a hand up and stroked him through the fabric. "I'll suck you off, and I'll pretend my fingers are the gun. Except we don't have any—"

Before she'd finished the sentence he produced a small packet of lube from the inner pocket of his jacket. "What—did you plan this?"

"I had hopes," he replied. "And I didn't think gun oil would be a suitable lubricant."

"God, no." She took the packet from him and set it on the floor, then began unfastening his flies. He let her do all the work, which was not in the least bit surprising. He was going to owe her a good time tonight after Rosie went to sleep. In fact, maybe she'd make him put Rosie to bed himself first. 

He was halfway to hard already when she pulled down his trousers and pants, and didn't seem to mind the room's cool air. Her own hands were cold, but if he wanted to imagine gunmetal, then that shouldn't bother him. She ran a finger down his cock, then brought him to her mouth, casting a quick glance up at his face. His eyes were open, watching her intently. God, his eyes. He wasn't her ideal man physically—that was John, of course—but those eyes, and the look he got when he was caught up in something he found fascinating...yes. 

She took him into her mouth, sucking slowly, feeling him swell beneath her tongue. He was a little bit sweatier than she was used to—usually he showered first—but she didn't mind. She could pretend she'd caused it, that the sight of her with the gun had made him sweat. A good fantasy, though the arousal she had actually inspired in him was even more satisfying. She slipped her hand down between her own legs for a moment, until she remembered what she was supposed to be doing with her fingers. She didn't think he was going to last very long—he was already starting to moan softly above her—but she did want to give him what he wanted, or at least a simulation of it. She picked up the foil packet of lube and opened it without looking, continuing to work her mouth on his cock. 

Sherlock's moans got louder as soon as she pressed one slick finger between his cheeks. "Mary. Mary. Stop." He pushed at her forehead and she dropped her hand and let his cock slide out of her mouth. "I want—" he said, then turned around and dropped down onto his hands and knees, somehow managing not to fall on his face even with his trousers wrapped around his ankles. He waved that luscious round arse of his in her face, and she lunged forward, more than willing to use this position to give him what she'd promised.

"Gun," he pleaded, and she slapped his left cheek, hard, and watched his whole body shiver in reaction. 

She squeezed the rest of the packet of lube out onto her fingers, cupping her hand so none of the thick liquid dripped onto the floor. Sherlock thrust himself back toward her and she complied, parting his cheeks with her right hand so she could ease the fingers of her left into him, grateful for the room's soundproofing as his grunts of pleasure gained volume with each movement she made inside of him.

"There you go. Feel it? That's my gun, it's hard and cold and—" She pushed in further and then pulled back again, letting the tip of her index finger drift along his prostate. 

"Yes, yes, please," he whined and she reached her right arm around his hip to take hold of his cock. A bit of a reach for her, but worth it to feel him clench around her fingers when she began to move both hands at the same time.

"Ah, ah, God. I want.... I want—I want you to shoot me."

Christ, he was so messed up. It couldn't all be her fault. "I can't shoot anything into you but maybe John will later tonight, hm?"

"Yes! John! John will...inside me. Yes."

"Mm-hmm." Mary sped up her pace, back on comfortable fantasizing territory. "John will be inside you, just like this, but with his cock, and I'll be there watching and maybe I'll record it on my phone so we can all watch it later." She had to stop herself from adding that there were almost certainly hidden cameras recording them right now, for fear that the thought of his brother's people watching would spoil the mood. 

"Oohh, yes." Sherlock shifted his position in front of her, lifting his right hand from the ground. Mary let go of his cock so he could take over, stroking himself much more forcefully that she had been. She dragged her hand down the inside of his thigh, wishing her nails were a bit longer so she could scratch him—she certainly wouldn't mind hurting him just a little, if that would help bring him off. Instead she crooked her fingers inside him and tried to time her movements with his. 

It didn't take long before he started to lose his rhythm. A few moments later, he let out one final, emphatic groan and Mary stilled her hand, feeling his muscles convulse around her fingers as his whole body shuddered and shook. 

"Oh, Sherlock, yes. Beautiful." She put her free hand on his back, soothing and coaxing him through his climax, until he let go of himself to rest both forearms on the ground, panting. Mary pulled her fingers out, wondering if she had a stray baby wipe stashed in her handbag. Or maybe Sherlock had had the foresight to stow some in his pocket along with the lube.

After a minute he caught his breath enough to manage to turn over onto his back, avoiding the mess he had just left on the floor. He lay there for a moment, legs bent, pants and trousers still down around his feet. She could see now that both his knees had been rubbed raw by the rough concrete of the floor. Well. She hadn't used the gun but he had been injured anyway, it seemed. He certainly hadn't complained.

"Mary." His voice was very deep again, and just a little unsteady. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Yeah?" She moved so she could sit instead of kneeling, the weight of the loaded holster as it shifted against her ribs reminding her why they were there. If he asked her again to use the gun on him, she was going to scream.

"Can we just tell John you taught me a lesson and skip going over all this gun safety business? I know how to handle a weapon properly, trust me."

She didn't trust him, not one bit, but he trusted her, so maybe she should start trying to return the favor. "Yeah. Just keep it unloaded and locked up when Rosie is around, all right?"

"Of course. I won't touch it," he said. "I'll leave all the guns to you and John. Just as long as you let me watch. And maybe someday—"

"No. No guns in the bedroom."

"Okay. But will you at least wear the holster again sometime?"

"We'll see, Sherlock. We'll see." Maybe she and John would have to get rid of their guns entirely, considering how bad they were at refusing anything Sherlock wanted. She sighed and then stood up, offering him a hand so he could get to his feet. "Let's just go home for now."

He stood and pulled up his trousers, tucking his shirt neatly into the waist and then fluffing his hair. "Okay. Thank you, Mary, that was quite fun." He looked away from her, up into the corner of the room and waved one hand. "Hello, Mycroft! Hope you enjoyed the show. Please send me a copy of the tape, when you get the chance." He took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. "No, strike that. Send it to me as soon as you possibly can. I'm going to need it tonight, to show John what he's missed. Can't have him feeling left out, now, can we?" He stuck his hand out behind him, wiggling his fingers. "Come on, Mary. Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> If you are a Johnlocker and usually don't like Mary but are now thinking, "hmmm, did I enjoy that?" may I modestly suggest [ a few other Johnlockary works I have written](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=kudos_count&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=112649&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=MissDavis)? Start with [ Could Be Fun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210391/chapters/4845249), which was the first fic I ever wrote, or, if you are more intrigued by Sherlock's interest in Mary and guns, try my personal favorite, [The Clothes You Once Wore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802117). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! One more ficlet to go this weekend--it's going to be Parentlock with John, Sherlock and Rosie!


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